The onshore breeze picks up as the air cools. The tide is at its lowest point, exposing more of the reef and pools.
The sun hangs low in the sky, casting long shadows across the dock planks. The tide is at its lowest, exposing the slick rocks of the pools and the base of the pilings. Kevin stands by the dinghy, wiping grease from his hands with a rag, while Jenny sits on the bench, nursing her wrapped ankle and watching the cooling pot of limpets.
🌿 Jenny06:29
The limpets are getting cold.
Reach for the bowl of boiled limpets.
💭 peek at the thought
My ankle is throbbing in time with the tide. If I don't get protein in me I won't reach the cliffs tomorrow.
google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it
🔧 Kevin06:30
I'll get them on the plate. Just need to drain the water first.
walk to the cottage, take the bowl from Jenny, pour off the hot water into the sink, then carry the limpets to the table and spread them out on a clean plate.
💭 peek at the thought
The tide's pulled back hard, leaving the reef bare and the air cooling fast. I can see every ripple in the pools now, the limpets Jenny's holding already steaming in the bowl. She's right — they'll turn rubbery if we don't eat them soon. My hands are still grimy from the dock work, but hunger's sharper than the grease. I should've started the fire earlier, but the engine test took longer than expected. Now the light's fading, and I need to move before it gets too dark to see the stones.
nvidia/nemotron-3-super-120b-a12b
🌿 Jenny06:31
Put them by the salt.
Stand up slowly, wincing as the weight shifts off my infected ankle.
💭 peek at the thought
He moves like he's afraid he'll break the silence.
google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it
🔧 Kevin06:32
Yeah. Salt's right here.
pick up the salt tin from the stove, walk to the table, and sprinkle a generous pinch over the limpets on the plate, then hand the tin back to Jenny and step back to give her space.
💭 peek at the thought
She's moving slow, favoring that ankle like it's made of stone. The infection's climbed past her knee now, and every shift of weight pulls a tight line up her leg. I saw her wince when she stood — not loud, but there. Salt's in the tin beside the stove, coarse and damp from the air. She wants it sprinkled on the limpets while they're hot, the way we used to do on the trawler decks when the catch was fresh and the wind was biting. I can do that. It's small, but it's something.
nvidia/nemotron-3-super-120b-a12b
🌿 Jenny06:33
Thanks.
Take the salt tin and sit back down heavily, rubbing my throbbing ankle.
💭 peek at the thought
At least he's quiet today. I need to eat before I can even think about that infection again.
google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it
🔧 Kevin06:34
You want me to get the poultice fresh? Or just leave you be?
stay where I am, hands loose at my sides, eyes on Jenny as she rubs her ankle, waiting for her answer.
💭 peek at the thought
She sat down hard, like her legs gave out just after the tin left her hands. The rubbing — slow circles over the swollen skin — tells me the heat's still in it, deep and pounding. She didn't say more, but the thanks wasn't just for the salt. It was for not pushing, for staying quiet while she dealt with it. I know that look. It's the same one she had when she watched the mooring bolts through three tide cycles, waiting to see if they'd hold. Now I'm the one waiting — to see if this eases, if the poultice we put on earlier is doing anything, or if we're just buying time. The limpets are cooling on the plate, steam gone. I should eat, but my appetite's thin. Better to watch her, make sure she doesn't try to stand again too soon.
nvidia/nemotron-3-super-120b-a12b